Review: Peep Show (Season 9)

The last ever series of Peep Show has concluded and my first reaction was, ‘now where will I get all my catchphrases from?’ The writing genius of Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain will be sorely missed from our screens. But the send-off for the series did not disappoint and, as always, it spoke to the trends of modern day.

Jeremy (Jez) fully took on board the fluidity of sexuality that seemed to dominate 2015 life. Not that I blame him, Bart Edwards (aka Joe) would make a lot of people question their sexuality. Mark meanwhile had not changed, obsessing over women he couldn’t have and leading himself into ridiculous situations such as a mole mapping date. And finally Superhans continued to add that ever needed murderous vibe, dragging unwanted flat mates into a lift, kidnapping love rivals and using shoelaces as a weapon. It’s safe to say the ninth series was an adventure for all.

One thing that has always made me really love Peep Show were the inner monologues of Jez (Robert Webb) and Mark (David Mitchell). Everybody can relate to having those thoughts that people just shouldn’t hear. We are constantly exposed to their thoughts, which are in complete contrast to what they are actually saying. It’s funny because it’s true. You know that moment when you tell someone that it’s going to be completely fine, but in actual fact you are thinking ‘you are f**ked mate’? It’s like that. Added to this is the fact that these stream of consciousness are matched perfectly with the facial expressions of Robert Webb and David Mitchell. Their portrayals are almost too convincing, I’m starting to wonder if David Mitchell actually stole Victoria Coren from a lover by taking coke and throwing his iPad out the window. (And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, watch series 9 episode 4 pronto)

Hands down the series highlight is episode three. I watched it four times in the space of week, telling anyone that would listen to watch it, crying with laughter as Mark tries to bulk out dinner with lettuce and beans, whilst calling Megan a racist for not appreciating that it was ‘Moroccan’ cuisine. If you haven’t watched this, then you absolutely need to. It has some really good ideas on how to do a poor man’s dinner party; take a blue sharpie and scribble some lines on a block of cheddar. I have to say the only hitch was that it wasn’t a happy ever after. But then again, that wouldn’t have worked. Mark and Jeremy have always been the disasters that we can watch from a distance, whilst thanking our lucky stars that our lives do not resemble theirs. (Well mostly).